FATHER AND SON.
When he arrived at the ferry house, the boat was coming in, with his venerable accomplices on board. Upon receiving her cue from the faithful Bill Fish, Mrs. Crull entered her carriage (which had been in readiness for her since Bog started out on his search), and was driven to Mr. Van Quintem's. The old gentleman, who was sitting in his study, with his light overcoat and hat on, prepared for any journey, took the spare seat in the carriage, and, in less than twenty-five minutes, by fast driving and the timely cooperation of the ferry boat, they were at the appointed spot.
"Have you found her, you dear Bog?" asked Mrs. Crull, breathless.
Bog answered "Yes," and that Mrs. Crull should see her in five minutes. That lady then assisted him into the carriage, and kissed him on the forehead in a motherly way, which would have astonished the sedate family coachman, if he had not been entirely used to Mrs. Crull's eccentricities.
"My good boy," said old Van Quintem, in a trembling voice, "are you sure we are not too late--quite sure?"
"Sure!" said Bog.
"Thank God! thank God!" murmured the old gentleman. Then he looked with a strange interest upon the honest and intelligent face of the lad. He was contrasting the history of the poor boy, which he had learned from Mrs. Crull, with that of his abandoned son.
The carriage was stopped, by the order of Bog (who calmly took charge of the whole proceedings), at the corner of the street below the shop; and the party (excepting the driver) walked slowly toward the scene of interest. Old Van Quintem's increasing infirmities compelled him to lean for support on the arm of Mrs. Crull, and also with greater and more confiding weight, on that of Bog.
As the party entered the shop, young Van Quintem was sitting with his head turned toward the door by which Miss Minford had vanished, savagely biting his finger nails. He wheeled in his chair, and confronted the intruders.
"What the ---- are you doing here?" he cried to his father.
"We are here to save a young girl from ruin, and you from another crime," said the old gentleman, greatly agitated, and leaning with his whole weight, now, on Bog's arm.
"The ---- you are! And you have brought along an old woman, and a boy that looks like a pickpocket, to help you."
The phrase "old woman" stirred up Mrs. Crull. She left the old gentleman's side, and advanced to within a yard of the profligate. "Old as I am," said she, "I'm strong enough to spank such a white-livered, broken-down puppy as you are. But I'll leave you to the hands of the law. It's a long lane that hasn't any turning, remember; and you'll pull up at the gallows at last. That's some comfort!"
Mrs. Crull here became conscious that it was highly impolite to lose her temper, and she fell back to the support of her old friend. Young Van Quintem laughed at her, showing his white teeth unpleasantly.
"Ah, I recognize you now," he continued, looking maliciously at the boy Bog. "You are the young thief that tracked me here, are you? I'll settle with you now."
He sprang from his chair, and strode toward the lad. He was met halfway by Bog, whom the insulting epithet had stung to the quick.
A foe met halfway is half vanquished. A single glance at Bog's clear, courageous eye, and his sinewy proportions, assured young Van Quintem that he had more than his match.
"This--this is no place for a row," he faltered. "I'll attend to you, some time, in the street."
"I shall always be ready for you," said Bog, smiling at this pusillanimous postponement--which is a mild way of making a clear backout.
Here the attention of all was called off by the appearance of Miss Minford. The quick ear of the milliner had caught her footstep on the stairs, coming down. She unlocked the door, and the beautiful object of their search stood before them. She was very pale, and tears dimmed her eyes. Mrs. Crull flew toward her, and the poor girl fell on her breast, and cried as if her heart would break.
Good Mrs. Crull helped her to a sofa, and sat down, and strained her young friend closely to her bosom, "Be calm," said she, "dear child!"
Old Van Quintem and Bog looked on with sad interest. The young villain stood in a corner, gnawing his finger nails, and revolving schemes of vengeance. All waited for Miss Minford to become calm before any explanation was sought.
Under the soothing caresses of Mrs. Crull, the young girl soon became comparatively tranquil. With her head still pillowed on the broad bosom of her protectress, she made a broken statement to the following effect, in response to the tender questionings of that lady:
She said that she had no thought of leaving the house of her dear friend, until he had told her how much better it would be to earn her own living at some easy and pleasant trade, than to be dependent on one who was not a relative. He had also told her that, one day, when he was passing the house, he heard Mr. Crull scolding because Mrs. Crull had brought a girl home to be her companion.
At this point, Mrs. Crull turned furiously toward the pale offender. "You miserable wretch!" said she. "I only wish my dear old man was here, to thrash you soundly. Why, he loved this little darling almost as much as I did. Besides, I'm the mistress of our house; and he never meddles with my affairs. Go on, dear Pet."
Pet then stated that he (she never called him by his name) had promised to get a place for her, and that she, supposing he was a true friend, had accepted the offer of his aid. One day, when they had met by appointment (which was very wrong, she admitted, with a fresh torrent of tears), he told her that he had found a nice situation for her in a milliner's shop in Greenpoint, and that she must come right away, or she would lose the chance. She went home, and packed up her few things in a handkerchief, and came with him here in a carriage. She came directly here, and had not been out of Mrs. Wopping's sight since then. Mrs. Wopping had treated her very, very kindly.
Mrs. Wopping, who had been lying in wait for her opportunity, here spoke up. She was a respectable woman, she said, thank God! and had been in the business for fifteen years, in New York. They could inquire about her in Canal street, where she had served her apprenticeship; in Division street, where she had been a forewoman; and in Grand street, where she had kept a shop. In an evil hour, she had been persuaded to start a millinery establishment in Greenpoint; and a very bad time she had had of it. All she knew about this unfortunate affair, was this: The young man, there, had called on her, a few days ago, and said that he wanted to do a favor for an orphan girl, who was a distant relative of his. She was poor, he said, but proud--no strange thing, Mrs. Wopping believed--and would not accept anything directly from him.
"Therefore," said Mrs. Wopping, "he wanted to arrange with me to give her some easy work to do, enough to make her think she was earning her own living, and he would pay me her board, and give me twenty shillings a week to hand to her as her wages. By this plan, I could get a boarder at a fair price, and the services of a young lady to wait on the shop for nothing. Very imprudently, I consented, but not before I had made the young man there swear to Heaven that his intentions were honorable. This he did in the most solemn manner. I loved the dear girl at first sight, and determined to watch over her, and keep her from harm. I had a little sister once--long since dead--that much resembled her. I should add, that, though Miss Minford seemed to think very well of the young man there, when he brought her here, she became quite suspicious of him yesterday--he was here all yesterday afternoon--and refused to ride out with him, though he had brought a handsome carriage for her. I advised her not to go."
"Thank you, good Mrs. Wopping!" said Mrs. Crull, shaking that lady by the hand, "you have been a true friend to our dear child; and I'll order my bonnets from you for the futer. Virtue shouldn't always be its own reward.
"You see, now, my darling," continued Mrs. Crull, "what a scoundrel you have escaped from. Will you be my adopted child forever? Speak, my precious!"
Poor Pet threw her soft white arms around the thick neck of her protectress, and cried for joy. "Dear, dear mother!" she murmured.
There was a pause, daring which everybody but young Van Quintem had occasion to wipe their eyes. He paced up and down, his brow wrinkled, and inextinguishable hate flashing from his eyes.
"Well, sir," said his father, calmly, "what atonement have you to make for this outrage?"
"You're a ---- old fool, and that's all I've got to say."
"Heaven be praised that his poor mother was not spared for this sorrow!" was the tranquil reply.
"Curse you--and the old woman's memory. You're always making a fuss about her."
The benignant expression of old Van Quintem's face vanished instantly, and a just rage gleamed on every feature. "Unnatural son! monster! fiend!" he cried, raising his hands aloft; "at last you have gone too far. Leave my presence, sir, and never--never--let me see your face again. I say to you, and before these witnesses, that I disown and disinherit you forever--forever--forever!"
The coward son could not endure that terrible visitation of parental wrath, and fled, without another word, from the shop.
Old Van Quintem fell exhausted upon the strong shoulder of the boy Bog.
"Henceforth," said he, "you--you--shall be my son."
FATHER AND SON.